


Reunion

by Aviss



Series: In the North - scenes not shown [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Spoilers, episode s08e01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: A conversation between two old friends





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> So of course I have been able to think of little else since I saw this scene in the episode. I know that there is no chance in hell of this happening in the show, but dreaming is free, and so is writing.  
> Warning - mentions of future character death, but of course, most people will have died by the end of the show.

It's cold this up north, but by now Jaime's so used to it he thinks he will never feel warm again. He'd thought Winterfell was cold and dreary last time he'd been here, he didn't know a thing then, it was positively charming compared to now. He's lucky, he knows, to have been able to sneak inside undeterred, the flow of refugees and the incessant snow making it easy for a cowled person to hide. 

Now he's finally here, he needs to find either Tyrion or Brienne and make his case, convince the Queen to take his aid without the promised army or these long weeks of riding north will have a sudden, and probably fiery, ending.

He looks around once he's inside the castle grounds, hand rubbing his weary face and memories from happier times overlapping the grim reality that surrounds him. Around him, the people are milling around in the grey light, carrying on with their business regardless of the war coming to their door. It's a contrast to the other time he came here, the Stark family lining up to be introduced to the King. He can practically see them in his memories, all lining up under the weak northern sun, those children of summer his family tried so hard to destroy.

That's the reason he thinks the boy is a ghost, at first.

By all rights he should be; it was the news of his death, alongside his younger brother, what made Catelyn Stark free Jaime all those years ago. And yet Jaime has no doubt, even with the changes wrought by time, that he's looking at Brandon Stark, the boy he pushed out of a window. He feels his breath catch in his chest, heart pounding as if in immediate danger.

His first impulse is to mount again and ride as fast and as far as he can, but where would he go? By now, Cersei has probably put a price on his head, and besides, he's never been craven, this won't be the day he starts.

Still feeling like someone has punched him in the gut, Jaime takes the few steps that separate him from the boy.

"Ser Jaime Lannister," Bran says, his voice completely without inflexion, his face a bland mask. "It's been a long time." Jaime opens his mouth and closes it; he has no words here, doesn't know what he can say to this boy, can still remember the last thing he said to him as if it was branded in his mind. "I saw you coming, alone, without the promised Lannister army. You know who's in there and the kind of reception that awaits you inside?"

He nods, still speechless. He had been counting on his only two allies to speak on his behalf, but that was before being confronted with his worst deed; the Dragon Queen's judgement is not the important one, he's not ashamed of having killed the Mad King but proud of it. What he did to this boy, though, this one act of cruelty done for love, this is the one thing he most regrets.

"You've come to the North to die," Bran says, it's not a threat but his words have the ring of prophecy. Jaime shudders at the finality of them, not that he expected to survive this particular expedition. 

"I've come to the North to fight a war, dying is often a result of them," he counters, finding his voice at last. He closes the last remaining distance between them, each step feeling unsurmountable, his gut clenching with guilt and regret, and drops to one knee in front of his chair, his eyes level with Bran's. "Will I be allowed to fight?" he asks, voice soft and pleading.

The boy stares at him with that unflinching gaze, as if he only feels a detached curiosity for the man who doomed him to a crippled existence. Jaime wonders how he can do that; if he had the chance to kill Vargo Hoat with his own hand he would take it, damned be the consequences.

"You still have an important part to play, Ser Jaime." A raven caws in the distance and Bran's eyes move upward, momenarily distracted, a white film covering them. It takes barely a second, but it leaves Jaime feeling deeply unsettled. "They're still far enough from here." He turns his dark gaze back to Jaime. "For the longest time I hated you, even when I didn't remember who you were, I hated the person who had done this to me." His voice is still bland, expressionless, like a Maester reading the weather report from a century ago, and Jaime thinks that makes it worse than if he was shouting and raging at him. "It's only recently that I understood you were just playing your part in this tale, same as I was, and all tales need their villains as much as they need their heroes."

It hurts, hearing it so plainly, but he has known for a long time his family was on the wrong side of history. Jaime lowers his head, unable to keep his eyes on Bran's anymore. He wants to scream and rage that he never wanted to be the villain, he always wanted to be the hero, that was the reason he had wanted to be a knight, the reason he joined the Kingsguard when he still believed in oaths and honour. It was the realm itself who branded him a villain when all he'd done was saving them from the Mad King. Those are cheap excuses, though, he made his own choices after that. It was him who decided to become the villain everyone thought he was instead of proving them wrong, who took the path of least resistance and bent to the whims of his father and sister and called it love. "I'm sorry," he chokes out. "Nothing I can say could make up for it, but I am sorry."

"You are here, and that's the important part. There was a fork on the road for you, and you chose well." Bran's hand moves to his head, lightly touching his hair and Jaime looks at him again. "You'll have a chance to fight, your story is not yet over and you can still be a hero. I will keep our secret, lest my sister kills you before your time."

Jaime could weep; that's all he wants anymore, just one more chance to prove himself, to die with honour. "Why?" he can't understand why is this person showing him such kindness he doesn't deserve. "I'm not a great fighter anymore, and there are many other battle commanders, maybe not as experienced but mayhaps more trustworthy than I."

The boy just stares at him for what feels like an eternity and then nods almost to himself, having reached some decision. "I told you there was still a part for you to play, and it's an important one. You will give your life to fulfil an old oath, and your child will father a Queen." Again the words have the ring of prophecy, though Jaime doesn't know how or why, but his mind latches on one thing. 

"My child?" Cersei made it clear she was going to marry Euron, even if she's really with child, no man will allow his Queen to birth a bastard from another man. Especially not a man such as Euron Greyjoy. And what kind of prince would father a Queen without taking a crown by himself? Not a Lannister one, for sure. 

"The heir of Tarth."

He hears the words but can't force them to make sense for a few seconds. _The heir of Tarth._ And then he sees Brienne in his mind, huge and honourable and kind, and he feels the want like a punch in the chest. His entire body trembles with want and need, the idea of a child of his blood and Brienne's, with her eyes and her moral compass and stubbornness. He didn't know before this was all he had ever wanted/ All these years since they met he hasn't allowed himself to think about her except on the few occasions she was in front of him; knew, deep down, that if he did he would be forced to recognize the emotion her memory brought out in him, and he had not been ready for it, not while in Cersei's thrall. 

Now he's free of his sister and it's too late, but it doesn't matter. Not if what Bran says is true: he will have the chance to spend at least one night with Brienne, and that is enough. 

It will have to be enough.

He feels the burn behind his eyes and the wetness in his cheeks, and knows he's weeping but can't bring himself to care. 

"The Lady Brienne is here, she will escort you inside and help you find rooms," Bran says, breaking him out of his thoughts. Jaime wipes hurriedly at his eyes and takes a deep breath to try and compose himself, not turning around just yet. 

"Another guest, my lord?" Jaime hears Brienne's voice right behind him, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. 

"Yes, one you have been expecting." 

Jaime stands up and turns around, and can see the surprise on Brienne's homely face, her beautiful eyes huge on her face. " _Jaime_?" 

He turns to Bran but the boy's gone, in mind if not in body, his eyes white like the wargs of legend. This is a time for legends, with dragons and white walkers and wargs. It's also a time for prophecy, and Jaime has one to fulfil. 

He turns back to Brienne and smiles the first real smile in what feels like a lifetime. 

"Lady Brienne."

...


End file.
